Friday Nights at Briggs
by Gemonie03
Summary: A typical Friday night at Briggs. Olivier/Buccaneer rating for sexiness.


**So, I'm feeling a little rusty and I just finished watching both FMA and Brotherhood and then I went looking for FanFiction. As usual when I exhausted what I wanted to read I decided to write what I couldn't find. I haven't read the manga, so don't shoot me if something isn't right, but it's hard to get things wrong with the type of stuff I write so… Without further ado… SEX!**

**I don't own FMA if I did I think it would be rather obvious…**

These meetings aren't about love or caring. They have nothing to do with courting, romance, or infatuation. These meetings are about sex; grinding hips, clashing teeth, raking nails. They're about physical release; one using the body of another for their own end.

Love may not be present, but the flames of passion and lust burn bright. Clothes are ripped and torn from war scarred bodies and tossed without thought or care. They calm for only a moment when cold metal meets hot, flushed skin. She shivers for a moment, allowing her skin to warm the false hand that slides from her breast to her hip, only to roughly shove her Captain into the solid, military issue cot that serves as the General's bed. She frowns for a moment, wondering if the cot will hold up under pressure, only to pounce on her subordinate when he attempts to change position.

"You will only move when I tell you to," she growls in his ear as she pulls his head back by his braid.

"Yes, Sir," it comes out as more of a groan than a reply. Hair pulling is his favorite.

She slowly rakes her nails down his chest and stomach, loving the feeling of well trained muscles under scarred skin. There may not be love, but respect and admiration run deep. She places herself between his knees and takes his hardened member in her hand.

Contrary to popular Central rumors, General Armstrong is actually quite fond of this bit of the male anatomy. She loves the way she can use it to make her feel fantastic and she loves how weak it makes men. Many have fallen for her schemes by thinking with the wrong head. Right now she's enjoying the subtly writhing and moaning mess it allows her to make of one of the strongest men she knows. It's all she can do not to cackle in glee as she encircles his engorged flesh with perfectly pouty lips, causing his breath to hitch before he mutters a nearly inaudible curse.

He thinks she'll be the death of him at this rate. It takes all of his will power not to move, as per her order. He wants more than anything to tangle his flesh hand in the perfect blond hair and push her further down his length, but he is a strong man and he resists. Even when her deep blue eyes meet his black ones. He sees the smirk there, the air of confidence that only his General could have in such a situation. All he can do is whimper pathetically as she releases him with a pop.

She stands from the cot and his eyes fix on the hand between her thighs, pleasuring herself. He wishes that hand were his own, driving her to make such perfect throaty moans, but he waits, like the perfectly trained circus bear he is. He watches as she spreads her legs and leans down over her desk. She makes him watch for a few more agonizing moments before her hand moves away from her center to plant firmly on the desk in front of her. She then turns her head, blond tresses cascading over her shoulder and throws him her most smoldering and seductive glance.

"Come and get me, Captain," she nearly purrs.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He leaps from the cot as gracefully as a man his size can, and doesn't hesitate to take her by the hips and thrust into her. Neither can stop the groan that escapes them as they finally get what they'd been hungering for. He pounds into her ruthlessly as she shifts her hips, looking for just the right spot. When she finally aligns them just right, she brings her hand up and yanks his braid in a tight fist.

"Harder," she screams it as she tugs his hair, hard, directing him like a stallion's reigns.

He's only too eager to comply and strengthens his assault.

It takes mere moments before the cascade of events that always ends these encounters takes place. She releases his hair as the knot of pleasure in her stomach tightens almost unbearably, and moves her hand back between her thighs to stroke her aching bud until release takes her and she groans out her end. Her muscles spasm and contract on him, sending waves of pleasure through his body. As the pleasure becomes too much, he pulls out just in time for his vision to spot as his orgasm shudders through his massive body, leaving him a shivering, shuddering, shaking mess as he drops to the floor behind her to regain his breath.

"Where did you?" she asks between panting breaths.

"My hand," he falls back on the floor.

After that is settled, and they're able to breathe again, they clean up and quickly redress. She escorts him to the door.

"Same time next week, Sir?" he salutes her.

"Of course, Captain," she salutes back and then they part ways with a click of her door.

The General always ends these meetings with a smirk on her lips and small glass of her finest brandy. Friday nights in Briggs are always her favorite.

**Oh, before I forget, I would really like some writing prompts for, well, anything I've ever written for would be fine. If you have something you think I might be interested in writing just PM me! I need to get back in the swing of things as school is starting again and I think I've atrophied… which is bad for an English Major… HELP ME!**


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